


Hope for the Hopeless

by JaggedCliffs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Brothers, Cameos, Frigga - Freeform, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Sif and the Warriors Three - Freeform, The Avengers and Nick Fury, a bit of Jane Foster, also there are references to books, and even Kang the Conqueror, discussions of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaggedCliffs/pseuds/JaggedCliffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor visits Loki's room after his fall. There, Thor discovers a book and keeps it as one of his most prized possessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clarice Chiara Sorcha (claricechiarasorcha)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claricechiarasorcha/gifts).



> I first wrote this as a short fic for claricechiarasorcha on tumblr, but it turned out much larger than I thought it would. This is basically my first attempt at fan fiction, so please be kind.

Loki’s rooms hadn’t been opened since his fall (his fall, always his fall, no mention of how he _let go_ ), which was why Thor’s hand trembled, reaching out towards the chamber doors of his brother (forever and always his brother, no matter the blood). Thor had faced down hordes of giants, armies of a thousand enemies, impossible odds, his own death at the hands of the Destroyer, and yet he was afraid of what lay beyond these doors. Steeling himself (he told himself he must do this, he must look), he pushed open the door. It swung back on silent hinges, revealing the unlit rooms of his brother. Thor stepped in, shivering at the slight drop in temperature; fires had not burned in these chambers for months, and Loki had always kept his rooms sightly colder in first place (and now he knew why Loki would always prefer the chill of a frosty morning to the roaring fire of a mead hall).

The rooms were exactly the way Loki had left them, not too different from how Thor remembered, last time his brother had given Thor leave to enter his rooms scant days before the interrupted coronation. Thor wondered if Loki had already made his plans for the Jotun interlopers by then, if he was confident in his schemes or if he had had second thoughts. Looking back, Thor cannot recall if Loki acted any differently, if he was nervous or guilty (but it was rare that anyone could tell if Loki was guilty, even Mother had trouble discerning Loki’s true feelings when he wished to hide them).

  
There were still the neat shelves and stacks of books, lined up according to whichever method Loki had currently devised; The tables were likewise neat but haphazard (paradoxes and contradictions, another thing Loki was quite good at), odd instruments and potions lined up however Loki deemed best. Thor thought he had nearly figured out Loki’s previous arrangement of books when Loki had suddenly reorganized them. Maybe that was why Loki reordered his possessions at such strange intervals, waiting until someone nearly figured it all out, then changed it all just to infuriate them. Thor couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face at the thought of Loki waiting until someone stared too long at his shelves with a dawning look of realization in their eyes, then rearranging everything just to relish their indignation the next time they visited. But now the books would never again be moved according to a fleeting whim; they would remain in place, collecting dust and grime. The smile vanished.

  
Moving slowly past the tables and bookcases, torchlight from the open doorway leaking in to illuminate the path he knew by heart, Thor made his way to Loki’s sleeping chambers. He reached out a hand, brushed it along the tightly-packed spines of books on one of the shelves. He ran a finger through the dust on one the tables of potions, exposing a line of black wood that gleamed in the errant torchlight.

  
There was nothing here (just as he knew, it was silly, foolish to hope, but then he had always been called a fool hadn’t he), just memories that hurt far too much to remember.

  
The door to Loki’s sleeping chambers was also closed, though not locked, and opened just as silently as the ones to the antechamber. With the drapes drawn tight and his body blocking the light from the entrance, all Thor could make out were shadows.

  
He should go in. This was why he had come here, to see it empty, for closure. Because the hope that he would see his brother, lurking in the shadows or reading some near-forgotten old book in the corner of the library, was too much. If anyone could trick his way past death it would be his brother, too clever for his own good. But he could not stop seeing a fleeting shadow out the corner of his eye; he could not stop turning to where he knew Loki _should be standing_ with some inconsequential remark on his lips and feeling the words die unspoken. He could not stop thinking that Loki was just holing himself up in his rooms, caught up in researching some interesting new spell. So he needed to go in, he needed to see. Or the hope might kill him (and then where he be, if he died of this hope before Loki came back, because Loki would come back, he _had_ to), or keep him in the stuck past when he needed to look to the future.

  
Not waiting for his eyes to adjust, Thor hurried to the opposite side of the room, grasped the heavy cloth and pulled the drapes wide open, flooding the chamber with late afternoon light from Loki’s expansive windows. A cloud of dust exploded outward from the dark green brocade, the motes floating in the golden light.

  
It was as empty as the preceding room, just as cold and lifeless. The bed was made (did he sleep that night? Did he have nightmares, or did he toss and turn while still conscious until morning light shone?) and the bookshelves as were tidy as the others. The chair of Loki’s writing desk was tucked in, and on top of the desk Thor spied a sheaf of paper.

  
Thor approached the desk, his cautious tread echoing. At the top left corner was the inkwell, stoppered so the ink still remained wet and ready to use, and laid beside it was Loki’s favourite quill (a gift from Father). The papers were weighted down at opposite corners with two smoothed, flat rocks. Thor gently removed the fist page of the stack from under the rocks, his brother’s neat, flowing writing scrawling across the page until about half-way down the paper. Thor read the last sentence.

  
"Once the tincture is settled, the two potions can properly be mixed by a pure oak switch. However, beware of any foaming, as it is likely an indication of contamination and should be disposed of immediately with"

  
It stopped there. It was a potion, instructions for how to brew a potion. The last words his brother had ever written, and of course it was about magic. Thor doubted Loki would have it any differently, unless the words managed to cause someone consternation. Although, with the instructions unfinished, Thor rather thought that some scholar would indeed suffer a great deal of dismay.

  
Thor couldn’t stop the brief chuckle, and the subsequent bellowed laughter at the thought of some old magician desperately looking through the notes, hoping for an ending. And if Loki knew, then his brother would delightedly smirk, such trouble over something so trivial, and even give a little genuine smile that someone would so desire his work.

  
His brother’s last written words.

  
Thor wasn’t sure when his laughter turned to sobs. He sank to the floor, clutching the sheet to his breast. He wept in the privacy of Loki’s rooms as he had not at his brother’s public funeral, in front of the gathered realm and attending dignitaries. He had come close, later when alone with Mother and Father. But Mother had wept and Thor had held her close, knowing if he broke down too then Father alone would have to stay strong for them both. And Father had looked weary, staring out the balustrade window at the remains of the Bifrost, late evening sun accenting the deep grooves and lines on Father’s ageing face. So he had held fast to his tears, until now, when they over whelmed his strength. Thor was sure if Loki were here, he would complain how Thor was crumpling the sheet, and getting tear-stains all over it, _put it back you brute, not everything needs to go through physical trial to be deemed useful._

  
Eventually his sobs trailed off, the echoes tapering off in the vacant chambers. Thor ran a hand down his tear-streaked face, and rose on unsteady legs, one hand on the desk for balance. He should put the paper back, smooth it down under the rocks and leave it, the way Loki had left it. Undisturbed.

  
Instead, Thor folded it up and carefully tucked it away in one of his pouches. Perhaps he’d show it to Mother later, Loki’s unfinished spell. Another broken sob wrenched from his throat.

  
He had to leave. Leave before he couldn’t, before he stayed here and tried to remember all he could about his brother from his rooms (the carved desk when he was sixteen, the bookcase commissioned from Thor himself). But as he turned to close the drapes, an object on the table next to the bed caught his eye.

  
It was a book, and sticking out from its middle was a black cloth bookmark. Thor crossed the room to where the innocuous book sat, a light covering of dust on its bright cover. Its spine was barely creased; though Thor knew Loki took good care of his books, Thor could see the book had yet to opened past its marked page.

  
Gently dusting off the cover, Thor opened the book to the little cloth marker. Scanning down the page, Thor realized that this was not a spell-book or a history text, but a story (a story never finished, words never read, characters that never reached their fate).

  
Tears threatening to overflow again, Thor grabbed the book (his brother would be _furious_ with him for taking his possessions from his room) and closed the heavy drapes. Darkness once again closed upon his brother’s rooms as Thor shut the bed chamber door behind him. He walked unsteadily back through the antechamber, book clutched in one hand like it was treasure from Father’s vault, and back into the torchlit hallway.

  
Thor closed the door to his brother’s rooms, doors just as silent as when he opened them and Thor’s hands still shaking. And with a soft click, Loki’s rooms were sealed once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor reads the books and misses his brother. Then said brother tries to take over the Earth and comes back in chains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler chapter. The book referenced is John Dies at the End by David Wong, because I’m too lazy to think up the type of story that would be written in Asgard.

Thor read and re-read the book in the coming months. It was one of his most prized possessions, and Thor made sure it stayed intact and unblemished, so even Loki would have no complaint of its treatment.The book told the strange tale of a young Midgardian man and his friend, as well as several others they meet along the way, encountering black magic, demons, and beings from other planets and dimensions. It was a riveting tale, meant to terrify, and Thor wondered if Loki had ever pulled an idea for a prank from this novel. The meat monster at the beginning of the tale certainly sounded familiar.

Entering Loki’s rooms did not dispel his shadow from the corner of Thor’s eye. In fact, Thor was sure he saw it more frequently. He found himself thinking more and more about his brother, if Loki would enjoy the saga told at the Midwinter celebration, or if he would agree that the Vanaheim ambassador was much too greedy to be allowed a place in the court.

Thor knew Sif and the Warriors Three worried for him, as he grew increasingly withdrawn and serious; but he could not remain unchanged, after Midgard, after losing his brother (but only after Loki had lost himself).

Then came word that Loki was alive.

~~~~~~~~

Even once the muzzle was removed after his sentencing, Loki refused to talk. He was brought to the dungeons in silence, and in silence there he remained. Overall Loki’s cell was more comfortable than that of a common criminal with no title to their name, but it was still a prison, one capable of holding a powerful magic-user.

Each day, just after the midday meal, Thor visited his brother. Thor sat by the entrance to the cell, iron bars crisscrossing the door and a barely perceptible sheen of magic over the whole opening. Though there was a bed, and even a chair and table, Loki always sat on the floor, facing away from the door whenever Thor came. When it became apparent that Loki refused to turn around or otherwise acknowledge Thor’s presence, Thor resigned himself to speaking at Loki’s back. At first he talked of the inconsequential, gossip and happenings about the palace. Then he tried to talk of the past, of their boyhood adventures together, but stopped the second day when Loki threw his plate from the midday meal at the door. It clanged against the bars, then fizzled as food and plate hit the magic barrier. The dish rattled to the floor, the barely-touched meal dripping after it. That was Loki’s first reaction to Thor’s presence.

Thor tried to confront his brother, asked him why he did it, why he had done everything, what did he want from Midgard, what did the Chitauri want from  _him_. But all his questions were met with silence. Eventually Thor stopped asking. As long as Loki remained still, kept his untouched plate of food beside him rather than splattered against the bars, Thor knew that the topic was safe to broach. Or perhaps Loki was just too proud to recognize Thor’s presence again.

Sometimes Thor ran out of words, and just sat and watched until he had to leave. Thor grew weary of the self-imposed silence, but did not know how to draw his brother out.

~~~~~~~~

One day, nearly a month after Loki’s invasion of Midgard, Thor was rummaging around in one of his chests. He was searching for a map of the Alfheim West Hills he  _knew_  he had left in there, and now Sif wanted it for a hunting trip. The chest was one of his older ones, with texts and forgotten objects from his youth (not exactly forgotten, more left alone because it hurt to remember), and he did not wish to spend more time than necessary looking through relics of the past (Loki had given him that book and told him it would keep him out of trouble for the day, they had played with those carved dragons and nearly broken off their wings). Luckily the map was not deeply buried, laying atop a stack of books. Triumphant, Thor grabbed the map and began to close the chest, when he noticed what the map had been covering up. There, bright cover pressed flat and clear of dust, was the novel from Loki’s room, black bookmark still pressed between it’s covers.

Gently Thor removed the book. It remained as pristine as Thor had managed. He had not read it since he heard of Loki’s survival (though he already knew parts of the book by heart), instead had placed it in the chest in the hopes that one day Loki would finish it himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has a plan, and the brothers finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST. Because it's always fun in a painful way.

The next afternoon, Loki was as still and silent as ever, though Thor was glad to see his meal looked partially eaten. Sitting in his usual spot, Thor opened up the borrowed novel to the bookmarked page. Starting at the top of the left-hand page, as Thor did not know exactly where Loki had left off, Thor began to read.Out of the corner of his eye he saw Loki’s shoulders rise as his back straightened in surprise. Loki’s head started to turn, the pale skin of his face nearly coming into view before Loki caught himself. He abruptly twisted back toward the wall, but the line of his shoulders remained visibly tense. Thor could not help the grin that crept onto his face; he just hoped Loki did not hear the smile in his voice. If Loki knew that Thor had noticed his reaction, it was likely Loki would throw his plate again.

Thor read until it was his usual time to depart. Loki still had not said a word, but even the twitch of his head had been an improvement over the weeks of apathy. So Thor returned the next day, and starting where he had left off, read to his brother. Thor watched for some acknowledgement, some movement to betray his feelings, but Loki had once again schooled himself, hiding behind ever-present mask (if Thor had known how to look behind that mask before, if he had known when Loki had worn it, if he had reached out, could he have stopped this?).

Despite the lack of reaction, Thor continued reading to his brother each day; it was better than trying to search for a safe topic to chatter about aimlessly.

A week after he had started reading Thor reached the last page. With a disappointed sigh, he closed the book with a soft thump. Loki still had had not moved, and Thor decided it was time to leave. He would try again tomorrow, maybe after asking Mother’s advice first. He rose slowly from his spot, a sinking, defeated feeling in his chest weighing him down as he began walking away from the cell.

“When did you decide to enter my room, Odinson?” The words stopped Thor in his track. Loki’s voice was raspy from disuse, and bitterness heavily weighed down his last word.

Daring to hope again, Thor turned around. Loki had not moved his spot. He gave no indication that he had spoken, or even wanted Thor to answer.

Carefully, as if approaching a wild beast, Thor returned to his spot by the prison but remained standing. He had to be careful; these were first words Loki had said in months, and Thor could not ruin it by saying the wrong thing (and if he told Loki the right thing maybe his brother would come back).

“A few months,” Thor replied, “after we believed you died.” He spoke slowly, watching and waiting for Loki to do something, anything. There was nothing.

“It was the only time someone has entered your rooms since your…since your fall,” Thor continued. “We’ve kept them for you, the way you left them.”  _In case_ , he wanted to say,  _in case you came back_. He wanted Loki to know that he had been missed, how Thor had felt wandering into those empty rooms, everything marked by his brother’s touch but missing his presence, missing  _Loki_. If Loki knew that he was loved, that Thor would have done anything to have him back-

“Do none enter because it was ordered so? Or is there another reason?” His brother’s normally smooth voice was scratched, though he hid all inflection in his tone, as if he were asking a question concerning the time of day.

Thor had hoped this would not come up. He had hoped, with Loki confined here, his brother would not notice. But of course Loki had known. He was Loki.

Swallowing, Thor answered, “After your death, we made sure none would enter. That it would be undisturbed.”

“And when you knew I was alive?” There was a dangerous lilt to that tone, one wrong move and everything would break apart.

“No one entered.”

“ _Why_?” The sound was close to a hiss.

“Because we, your  _family_ , wished it.” Thor hoped Loki would catch on that, so they could finally discuss what had happened between them. That Thor could explain his and their parents love and hope for the future. Because that wasn’t the whole truth, and they both knew it.

But Loki ignored Thor’s entreaty. “We are  _not family_. Why  _else_?” he demanded.

Thor let out the breath he did not realize he was holding. He could lie. But it would not help; it only set Loki off more. “They were afraid.” Thor looked away from the bars, from the seated, shadowed figure. “They still are.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

Since the people had heard word of Loki’s survival, rumours had been whispered about the palace. About dark magic and underhand dealings. When Loki was brought back, chained, muzzled, and sentenced, these rumours increased tenfold. Although now they contained an element of truth.

A low chuckling started from behind the bars. Thor looked back, startled, to see his brother’s head bent and shoulder shaking.

“A monster” Loki breathed between laughs. “A monster that parents tell their children about at night!” Loki threw his head back and positively howled with laughter, before stopping with a chocked sound as abruptly as he had started.

A few seconds passed in silence, as Thor recovered from his shock. He reached a hand towards the cell, as if he could reach past the bars and magic barrier, reach the man inside. “Loki-”

“It’s time for you to leave”

“Loki, please-”

“ _Go_. Or you might be missed. They might believe I’ve enchanted you, to help with my escape. But they already believe that, do they not?” The voice was light, curious and questioning, bitterness and anger held from its tone.

“We miss you Loki. Please, talk to us. Talk to  _me_.” Thor pleaded, “You are not a monster, you are _my brother_. Your heritage does not matter, not to me, nor to Mother and Father. Please Loki, we love you.” But Loki had returned to silence. It was if Thor was talking to the shadows in the cell.

But Loki was right, it was time to go. He had to meet with a group of advisers and a diplomat from Vanaheim (he had to plan around his visit to Loki, everyone knew  _that_  part of his schedule could not be interrupted), and skipping the meeting would anger the Vanir. Thor tried to cajole his brother into answering for a few minutes more, but Loki’s demeanour remained unchanged. Defeated (even as he began to hope because Loki had  _talked to him_ ), Thor departed the cell in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor continues to read and hope that it will work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst. I hope this isn’t repetitive. The book referenced is The Passage by Justin Cronin. If you’re wondering if these books have any significance to the plot or theme, they don’t really. Not at this point.

When Thor returned the next day, both of them acted as if the previous day had not happened. The only difference was when Thor opened the book in his hands, it was not the same one as before. This book was another one from Loki’s rooms. Thor had visited them again last night (still empty, still too full of memories, still lacking his brother’s presence as if the rooms’ owner were still dead) and found another novel that looked to be unread. He was unsure what this one was about, but its cover featured a forest in winter, fading into blue at the top. Opening to the first page, with one more glance at his brother’s stooped and still back, Thor once more began to read.Loki did not say a word throughout the whole story. And he did not say a word during the next, this book likewise selected with care from Loki’s rooms. However, while Thor saw no physical reaction from Loki, he did notice that more and more of Loki’s meal was gone each day before Thor came to read.

Loki kept his silence until midway through the fourth book.

“Why are you doing this?”

Thor stopped mid-sentence. He was delighted, felt his spirit soar once his surprise had faded. Then he tamped down on his joy. It would not do to rush headlong into the question ( _Thor, stop and think_ , Loki had always said), but instead he had to be delicate, choose his words with precision (Loki was much better at this, why did Loki have to leave this task to _him_?).

After mulling over his words, Thor lowered the book and replied, “I am reading to you because you enjoy books, and none are allowed into your cell. And I believe that you have yet to read these tales.” He knew that was not the answer Loki wanted, but if acting deliberately obtuse would draw Loki into talking just a bit more, then Thor would act the fool.

As expected (and when did Loki play into Thor’s hand? When had all this changed?), Loki snapped, “ _Not the books_ , you half-wit. Why do you come here? What do you hope to accomplish?”

Thor sighed. He must tread carefully, try to make Loki  _listen_. “I come here because you are my brother, as Odin is our Father and Frigga our Mother. Because I will not forget about you, and leave you here alone to stew in your rage and bitterness. Although you may very well deserve it for the death and destruction you have caused!” Thor winced at the rising anger in his voice. He had let his emotions get the better of him. Loki already knew he was condemned, but he needed to know that he was still cared for.

Abruptly Thor stood up and moved closer to the bars of the door, face so close that his breath ghosted across the magic barrier. As if being nearer to Loki would help him hear. “Because I mourned for you,” Thor continued. “Mother, Father, the whole kingdom mourned when you fell. And I would have done anything to have my brother back. Because when I walk into your rooms, it feels as if you are  _still dead_.” Thor knew there were tears in his eyes, but he would not dash them away. If Loki would turn around, if he would just  _look_. “I wish to find my brother again, Loki. I wish to show him that he is still loved, that he can return from this.”

“You never had a brother, Thor,” Loki hissed. “All you had was a lie.  _Stop looking_. There is nothing to return to.”

“I know it was not all lies, Loki. I know that we cannot go back, not entirely, but we can be brothers  _again_ , Loki, if you would just try.”

Loki’s head suddenly whipped around. Thor retreated a step, taken aback by Loki’s appearance. He looked far worse than the first time Thor had laid eyes upon his brother on Midgard. The eyes were flashes of green, glaring out of sunken, dark sockets, and the skin around them was pale and waxy. His cheeks were hollowed, bones more prominent than ever before.

“You think they would let me?” Loki snarled. “You think that Asgard would accept me again, after what I’ve done? After what they think I’ve become?  _If they knew what I_ _ **am**_? You already know the stories they tell about me, probably better than I do,” he ranted. “They will never forget what I’ve done, and if you believe that they will give me the acceptance that  _I never had in the first place_ , then you are more a fool than I thought.”

Breathing heavily, Loki’s eyes widened slightly as if he just realized what he had said. He looked into Thor’s shocked face, and seemed to notice the unshed tears in Thor’s eyes, the emotions that Thor was sure were flitting across his face. Slowly, Loki turned to face back towards the wall, then stood up. Still not looking at Thor, Loki woodenly approached his bed and sat down, staring at the floor.

“There is nothing for you here, Thor.” All the anger had gone out of his voice, leaving only exhaustion. “Go back to the palace. Where you belong, captivating the entire realm with your strength and skill. Not hidden away in shadows, wasting away your time in the dungeons.”

Thor shook his head, although Loki could not see. “No, Loki, I belong with you,” Thor said, emphasizing each word. “By your side, whether it be facing down hordes of the dead in Helheim’s deepest cave, or the King’s advisers in Asgard’s highest tower. I will _not leave you_ , Loki.” His voice trembled, attempting to give the words as much weight as he could. “I will not return to the palace and forget about you. You are  _my brother_. I could never forget you.”

Loki let out a broken peal of laughter. “Still playing the sentimental fool. It will do you no good.” Placing his elbows on his knees, Loki brought his face to his hands. “I believe it’s time for you to go.”

It was. Thor could stay, argue and plead his love, but he doubted Loki would respond. Whatever had again triggered his brother’s talkative mood had ceased, and lingering would only serve to irritate Loki further. “I will come back,” Thor promised, before leaving the slumped figure on the bed, languishing in the dark.

~~~~~~~~

There were no more outbursts the next day, nor any day after that. Thor continued reading, and Loki continued listening from his spot on the floor.

Thor knew he was not the only visitor to Loki’s cell. Though their schedules were much busier Mother and Father occasionally entered the dungeons, though Father much more seldom. As King and Queen, it was unseemly for them to appear in Asgard’s prison too often, but they still managed to show. Never at the same time as Thor, nor even in each others’ company; it was an unspoken agreement between Thor and his parents that they would not appear together before their errant family member, as none of the them believed Loki would react well to being forced into a confrontation with his family.

Loki seemed to respond to Mother’s companionship best. He sat by the door while Mother talked, looking at her instead of a blank wall of his cell. They had even exchanged words a few times, though Mother would not tell him of what they discussed. Mother’s presence always soothed his brother, and after one of her visits Loki invariably looked more relaxed as Thor read.

However, the opposite was true of their father; Loki would be on edge, his shoulders hunched and back rigid following a visitation from the Allfather. Though Father never spoke of what transpired between the two, Thor imagined it involved much more than indifferent silences. He believed Loki’s misery in his company was one of the reasons Father visited much less frequently than Mother.

Thor had a suspicion that Sif and the Warriors Three had visited once, but neither his brother nor his friends mentioned any such encounter. Thor himself was not sure how he felt about inducing such a meeting (they had been friends once, Thor was sure it had not been a facade, though neither party much deigned to acknowledge such now), and let the matter be.

Eventually, after a few months of reading, Thor began to worry he was running out of books. He suspected he was rereading a few, but Loki did not care enough to tell him (or maybe Loki enjoyed it, maybe he did not want Thor to stop reading even if the tales were old, but that was a fool’s hope). He would check Asgard’s library, but he was unsure which books Loki had already read from those great shelves (Thor once teased that Loki must read  _all_ the books in the library if he wished to be as wise as Father. Loki had scoffed, told him that then Thor should read them all too if he wished to be king, but Thor sometimes thinks Loki took him up on the challenge anyway). Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done, and Thor continued his daily visits without any signs of stopping.

Until one day, five months after Loki’s return, when Thor did not appear in front of Loki’s cell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki muses on his situation and plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki wasn’t supposed to get a chapter, but here it is. Be warned that there is a rather large change in style (because Loki), and after five months his mind is still more than a few cards short of a deck. Also, here is where the warnings of attempted self harm (sort of) and contemplations of self harm (sort of) come into play.

Loki waited. He waited into the night and into the next day. Thor did not come.On the second night Loki arose from his spot on the floor, bones creaking from his lack of movement. So Thor had finally gotten tired of looking after his monster of an adopted brother. It was going to happen sooner or later. Loki had just thought there would be more forewarning; Thor’s emotions were written on his face, and even though he was not actually  _looking_  at Thor, Loki believed he should have been able to detect  _some_  form of boredom or disgust that would prompt this decision.

There certainly wasn’t a battle on. If something was attacking Asgard, something which could occupy Thor for two days, the disturbance would have been obvious. Even in such a far removed place as the dungeons. Of course Thor could have gone on a hunting trip, or to another realm for some royal duty, and had just forgotten to inform his favourite prisoner

_because when had Thor ever cared_

of his sudden absence.

No, Thor had at last realized just how fruitless his daily visits were, and it was time for Loki to get used to endless days alone in his prison.

_Unless Thor was injured, killed, because Loki wasn’t there to help him and now he was unable to come._

Loki had grown quite bored of the stories as well

_No, he had waited each day to hear Thor read, Thor hadn’t read to him since they were children, before Loki had outpaced him in their studies. And even then they would still sometimes read together, until Thor had said that wasn’t fun anymore and told Loki to read alone_

and the stupid oaf had begun to re-read him books. Loki hadn’t him told him

_because he didn’t want him to stop_

because Loki did not care enough to correct him. Why waste the breath?

His limbs stiff, Loki went to lay down on his bed. It was probably more comfortable than that of a less well-off peasant, but hard compared to the one in Loki’s chambers. He turned on his side and watched his untouched evening meal disappear with a flicker of light. As far as Loki could tell, apart from the magic barrier and runes for suppressing magic on the wall, the delivery and removal of his food was one of the only two magics working in his quarters. After inspecting the runes, Loki had deduced that the magic only applied to living beings, so his food and eating implements could be sent to him with ease, and taken away without Loki trying to hide them away. He had to tried to keep the fork and spoon, and then the plate and even the food, but no matter what Loki did with them they all disappeared as neatly as they had come.

Loki hadn’t just sat on the floor all day, waiting for Thor to show up,

_though that was what it felt like, anticipation building up every time the midday meal appeared because it meant Thor would arrive up soon_

he had tested the limits of the cell. Nothing could get through the magic barrier, and Loki had received quite a few burns for his troubles. The bars were too strong to be broken or cut through with any thing in the cell. The walls and floor were even more solidly built, and since both the bed and the table were fused to the ground they could not be used to break the floor. The chair could be moved, but it was spelled so it only moved a certain distance away from the table, and it could not be lifted off the ground. His food utensils were too flimsy and dull to be of any use, especially for the short time in which they were in his cell.

The suppression of his magic was another level of trouble altogether. Loki had attempted every spell he knew, and all he felt was a faint ache in his head and burning sensation in his stomach. The runes could not be scraped off or smudged. While the magic used for his food and chair implied an interesting limitation on the magics in the cell, the problem with becoming un-living was how to properly return from the dead free, and without any ill effects. Certainly nothing in his cell could aid with that. He could injure himself, allowing either healers with magic to be brought in, or himself to be brought out. But Odin would probably plan for that possibility, bringing in more of that magic-suppressing chain, and enough of the Einherjar to subdue a herd of Bilgesnipes. And there was the problem  _how_  he would injure himself. The second week of his confinement, he had tried to use the table to break his arm. He had pushed the chair out as far as it could go, placed his upper arm against one of the table’s legs, then tried to slam the chair against his forearm in order to snap his elbow. Unfortunately, the magic binding the chair prevented it to move fast enough, and all Loki succeeded in doing was give himself a few bruises. He could bang his head against the wall until it bled or starve himself; but both of those options would leave him weak, and between Odin’s caution and the potency of the magic-suppressing chain, escaping would require most of his strength. And if he didn’t manage his escape, he would probably end up chained against a wall, more freedoms taken away. No, those two options would only be a last resort, and better to be used when Asgard was weakened, the palace guards distracted. Loki snorted. As if he could cause a large enough diversion from his cell. Or orchestrate a war in his confinement

And his plan would hinge on someone noticing him in the first place. There were no guards by his cell, since as a prince he was allowed a certain amount of privacy, and Loki was not quite sure how they were surveilling him.

_Because someone had to be watching him, right?_

For all he knew, with Thor no longer visiting he could starve himself to death before someone noticed that their disgraced second prince was not eating his meals.

_Because no one cared, not anymore._

Frustrated with his line of thoughts, Loki got off his bed with and started to pace. He was too restless for sleep.

Frigga would notice. She didn’t come everyday, like Thor, but she made time for him. When she could. Or would she stop visiting as well, just like Thor? Would he be left alone in the dungeons, hidden away and forgotten, the royal family’s error,  _shouldn’t have been allowed in Asgard in the first place, should have been left to die as a babe in Jotunheim, just because of the Allfather’s lapsed judgement-_

No, no, no, no, Odin, Odin would come, check on his mistake, assure himself that it wasn’t getting into any mischief. Then go back to his golden throne with his golden son, knowing that his perfect golden kingdom was free of monsters.

Loki  _hated_  it when the Odin came. The Allfather didn’t talk as much as Thor or Frigga, but at times stood there, his one eye staring. Sometimes Loki stared back, standing up straight and proud. He would not show repentance, not before  _him_. But Loki could not meet that piercing, knowing gaze for long, and would start pacing his room, much as he was doing now. At first when Odin did talk, discussing reconciliations, making amends, the Allfather’s own regrets,

_as well he should regret_

Loki would glare and then ignore him, sitting down on his bed, facing away from the door. Once or twice Loki had fled to the small offshoot room meant for disposing of his wastes, as the placement of the room concealed him from the door. He knew it was childish, as throwing the plate at Thor had been, and Odin called him out on it. But it meant Odin left sooner, disappointment making his footsteps heavier. But Loki didn’t care about pleasing the Allfather anymore. Not that there was any point to _that_  endeavour in the first place.

Later, after his conversations with Thor, Loki sometimes found himself screaming at Odin. The Allfather was speaking of his actions against Midgard, against Jotumheim and

_those monsters_

their people, that if Loki would admit to regret, as Odin regretted making his mistakes with Loki, and  _what mistakes were those Allfather, bringing in a monster from the cold, pretending it was a son, SHUT UP ABOUT CAREING, YOU NEVER CARED, YOU JUST NEEDED A TOOL TO PLACATE JOTUNHEIM-_

Those talks usually ended up with Loki taking refuge in the waste-closet, huddled just out of sight between the wash basin and toilet.

So Odin would come, if Loki tried to end his life. At least he would have one visitor in this hopeless place. Although, his former family were not the only ones to have appeared in the dungeons. Loki stifled a giggle, at the ridiculous thought of Sif and the merry band of idiots rescuing him starvation. They hadn’t done anything on their only visit anyway, just stood there and  _stared_. Muttering amongst themselves, too quiet for Loki to hear. When they had arrived in front of his cell, Loki had been laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating if he could grapple the chair into a better position to break his arm. He hadn’t bothered moving, but their eyes on his prone figure had irritated him. After a few minutes, he had started whistling. They had ceased whispering the moment they heard the noise, and left soon afterwards. Loki let him smile at that memory. Let his those fools run and spread rumours. He didn’t need them staring at him like a creature on display for their entertainment, the would-be-conqueror left to rot. They had been Thor’s friends in the first place, never his _._

Loki sighed, and stopped his pacing. Despite sitting all day, he was tired. And there was very little to do in this prison but sleep,

_even though he couldn’t, not with the nightmares, not with the memories and terrors chasing each other around in his head_

so returned to his lump of a bed, before his thoughts made sleep impossible.

_And maybe tomorrow Thor would show._

~~~~~~~~

There was nothing to interrupt the monotony of the next day without Thor’s visit. The meals came and went, picked at but uneaten. Loki hadn’t eaten in a few days,

_since Thor had left_

and though he knew he keep up his strength,

_for what? He wasn’t going anywhere_

the thought of eating was wholly unappetizing.

While sitting in one corner of the room, staring off into space and mind recounting all the species not native to the nine realms,

_the Chitauri had shown him, the Kree, the Skrulls, the Brood, the Shi’ar, the Chiss, the Raxacoricofallapatorians, the…_

he noticed that the meal currently disappearing was the fifth since he had woken up. Which meant Thor was gone for another day, a day which Loki had not been aware had passed. Loki realized his muscles had tensed, ready to stand up. But to do what? There was nothing to do in this cell but  _wait_. Loki relaxed again, head lightly thumping back against the wall. Without Thor

 _and the books that he brought, the_ stories _to contemplate_

the prison had become increasingly unpleasant, as if it wasn’t punishment enough already. Thor broke the tedium of the days

_and you liked seeing your brother didn’t you, reading to you, doing something you enjoyed for once_

and the novels weren’t half bad; though that was to be expected, seeing as they had come from Loki’s rooms. The Midgardians did think up some interesting tales, he had to give them that  _and you were planning to take that from them, weren’t you? Take away their freedoms, no more stories, just them kneeling and bowing and scraping but only because they were afraid, or because the staff in your hand forced them to their knees, not because they actually wanted to bow, not like to Thor, because you could_ _ **never**_ _inspire that kind of loyalty, because they could_ _ **never**_ _love you,-_  No, no, no, shut up –  _who could ever love a monster like you-_

“SHUT UP!” Loki screamed at the empty room, shooting to his feet. Abruptly he shut his mouth, and listened for the running feet of guards. Hopefully they were too far away to have noticed. He heard nothing, save the heavy pants of his breath. Suddenly, he started to laugh. Clapping a hand over mouth, trying to stifle the sound, Loki sat down on his bed. His body continued to shake with laughter, even as Loki bit down on a finger to try to stop. Here he was, the former king of the greatest of the nine realms, shouting and laughing at nothing. Perhaps he  _was_  mad.

Loki lay down, body shuddering with mirth, and closed his eyes as he hoped for a dreamless sleep. Maybe then he could get some rest.

~~~~~~~~

By counting the number of meals, all of which he had so far refused to eat, Loki knew it had been eight days since Thor had stopped coming to his cell. And Loki was pretty sure he was going mad

_but he already was mad. He’d been mad since he had learnt of his heritage, and then the void had damaged what remained of his sanity_

which was a disappointment, as Loki had believed his mind was strong enough to last at least month in isolation before it started to deteriorate. He should start planning an escape, before he lost his mind altogether. Though he was already well on his way to starvation, that route seemed too slow now. As did banging his head against the wall, not to mention the damage it could do to his mental faculties. And that optioned just seemed rather unappealing. But he had been pondering a new method in which to break his arm, which would most likely work. It would be painful, but at least he could be free.

Because why should he stay here, forgotten and alone. What lesson was he supposed to learn, going mad in the darkness of his cell? Was this supposed to make him regret taking human life

_but their writers had such wonderful tales, not focused only upon a man’s prowess in in battle_

or attempting to rid Yggdrasil of those pests on Jotunheim?

No, Loki would take his leave from Asgard. He would have to hide from the Chitauri, but he had powers of which they knew not. The same could be said of Odin. With a few tricks and a bit of luck

_not that he’s ever had much luck_

Loki could be out of Asgard before his next meal was set to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kree, Skrulls, and the Brood are from the all Marvel Comic 616-verse (and the Chitauri are also technically Skrulls, but don't tell them that). The Chiss belong to the Star Wars EU, and the Raxacoricofallapatorians are from Doctor Who.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor returns, and there is an ending of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some plot, and I think it's really awful, but oh well. Män som hatar kvinnor is the original Swedish name for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Also for time conversion for Aesir, the way I figure it one Aesir year is equal to about 35 of our years, so 500 years is about than 15 years of their time.

Thor returned to Asgard eight days after he left. He was exhausted, but the ache in his bones was the type one felt after battle: worn but satisfied. He was looking forward to seeing his friends and family again at the feast to be held for his return. Most of all his body longed for his bed, and a deep dreamless sleep to help forget his troubles. However, before Thor was allowed this relief, Father wished to speak with him.Eight days ago, Heimdall had alerted Thor to an emergency on Midgard. The mortal heroes had desperately needed his aid. Immediately, Thor had pleaded with Father to use the Tesseract to send him to Midgard. Odin was anxious about sending Thor away when his duties lay in Asgard, but had acquiesced to his request.

The trouble on Midgard had been a time-travelling dictator, who named himself Kang the Conqueror. Thor had arrived just after S.H.I.E.L.D. had first reported sighting the man, and together with his fellow teammates, the Avengers had defeated Kang and returned him to his own time. They had even freed a kingdom from Kang’s rule in the 40th century. With the time-travel involved, Thor was not sure how long the battle had actually taken, but all the Avengers had eneded up missing four days.

After the battle, Thor had spend two days with his comrades in Stark’s tower, recovering from his wounds and learning of the Avengers and their lives; he had not taken enough time to converse with the mortal heroes at his last visit, as he had been focused on Loki. However, this time he had stayed and feasted, and shared tales with his friends.

The commander Fury had asked about his brother’s confinement. Thor had assured the commander that his brother was longer a threat to Midgard. None of the Avengers had brought up Loki, though an inebriated Agent Barton had approached Thor with a confrontational look on his face before before being quickly diverted by Captain Rogers.

Thor had been glad that his brother had not been mentioned. As much as he wished his new friends could have known his brother before his madness (Stark and Dr. Banner would probably have liked him, and Thor found a strange similarity between his brother and Lady Natasha in the way they moved through the shadows and listened in on every conversation with an appraising look in their eyes), Thor knew any discussion of Loki in present company would not be very friendly.

He had even been able to talk with Jane, though not in person. Since Jane was still working in Norway, Stark had introduced Thor to an impressive method of communication titled ‘Skype’. Graciously, Stark had allowed Thor use of one his rooms, and Thor had spent many long hours alone to talk to Jane one Stark’s machines before her work called her away.

Despite the camaraderie he had enjoyed with the mortals, Thor knew he could not linger. Using the Tesseract, and carrying what Stark had called ‘souvenirs’ from Midgard, Thor returned home. He arrived on the Bifrost, where Heimdall wasted no time in informing him that the Allfather wished to see him at once.  _Before_  Thor had time to relax.

Thor met his father in the weapons vault as he returned the Tesseract to its rightful place. Together, they placed the artifact on the pedestal that had formerly held the Casket of Ancient Winters. Father seemed lost in his thoughts, and Thor was about to ask what had been so urgent when Father spoke.

“Do you believe Loki regrets his actions?”

Thor looked at his father. Odin was staring at the Tesseract, but his mind far from the weapons’ vault. His face was lined, showing his great age in a way Thor rarely noticed. “I do not know, Father,” Thor answered quietly. “I do not know if he regrets any of them.” (even the ones committed against Thor).

Odin sighed, then walked back towards the steps leading out of the vault, signalling for Thor to follow. “Loki’s prison was designed to hold him for five hundred years, except on one condition.” Here Odin stopped and turned to Thor, at the base of the great stairs. “He must feel regret for his crimes against you, our realm, and Midgard.”

Thor felt his eyes widen. “But how could you tell? Does he know about this?” Thor spluttered. “Does anyone know?” Loki could be free early, free to be his brother again, and father  _had not told him_?

“No. No one knows. And you must not tell Loki, either,” Father cautioned. “There are magics woven into the walls of the cell, and the moment Loki completely regrets his transgressions, he will be free. But if he were to know of this condition, I fear Loki would find a way to trick the cell into freeing him” Father shook his head, exasperated by his younger son’s cleverness. “Loki must come by his repentance naturally, if he is to be welcomed back into Asgard freely.”

Father then continued up the steps to the hall while Thor remained at the base of the stairs, too stunned by this revelation to move. Suddenly, Thor realized his father had missed something. “Father wait,” he called, and rushed to Father’s side. “What about Jotunheim? What about the destruction he caused there.”

Father heaved a sigh, as regret shone from his one eye. “Loki does not yet have to repent for his deeds against Jotumheim.  _Because_ -” Father saw that Thor had opened his mouth to interrupt, and silenced him a look, “you would be hard pressed to find any in Asgard who would condone his actions against the Jotuns.”

“But Father, they would not accept genocide-”

“Not the way Loki tried it, no. Rather than from a place of safety, they would prefer to wipe them out in a glorious battle.” A look of disgust briefly crossed Father’s face, before it was replaced with weariness. “Do you not remember, my son, that not too long ago you would have gladly killed them all, right down to the last child?”

Thor felt sick to the pit of his stomach. “But I’ve learned since then Father. And if I learned, then so can Loki.”

“He will. In time. But I fear that if he were forced from his prison to regret his actions against his own species, then Loki would never be able to leave his cell.” Father was silent for a moment, then spoke, facing towards the great doors of the vault. “And I believe that would be my own fault.” His voice was soft, barely audible even in the vast, echoing chamber. “In my own damned pride and fear, I set Loki on this path.”

Thor was nervous. He had never seen Father speak this way, with such self-condemnation, even when banishing Thor. “You did nothing of the sort, Father,” Thor argued. “You never told us the Jotun were monsters, or encouraged us to kill them.”

Odin looked sharply Thor. “But I never corrected you, or Loki, when you believed that as the truth,” he snapped. “I never quelled ill will against Jotunheim and their people in these halls, and allowed the both of you and the whole realm to believe them monsters.” Thor watched as his father’s figure slumped, and Thor powerless to help. Because looking back, it was true. “And I was too afraid of hurting him to tell him the truth. Now I fear the truth had damaged him beyond repair.”

Thor looked at his father, on the edge of breaking and tired enough to fall into another Odinsleep, and put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “You did your best, Father. Loki made his own choices. Now we need to help him make different ones.”

“Yes,” Odin said quietly. “We do.” And then continued his march up the stairs, Thor in tow. Then something occurred to Thor.

“Father, why are you telling me this now? Could this not have waited until tomorrow?”

Odin smiled and gestured to his sack of gifts from Midgard, which was still slung across Thor’s back. “Because Loki needs you. Right now,” he added, when Thor didn’t seem to be moving, “before he does something incredibly stupid.”

“What do you-”

Odin made a shooing motion towards the dungeons. “No time. Go see your brother.”

With a questioning look at Father, Thor hurried off in the direction of Loki’s prison cell (which was at the bottom of the palace, down too many flights of stairs to count), wondering what trouble his brother could get up to in his sparse prison cell.

Knowing Loki, quite a bit.

Thor quickened his pace.

~~~~~~~~

When Thor arrived in front of the cell, slightly out of breath, he was met with a curious sight. Loki was not in his accustomed spot on the floor, but was crouched beside his desk with his back to the door. Loki’s meal was lumped on the floor, with the plate itself beside the chair.

The oddest part was that Loki did not seem to know Thor was standing there. While Loki had never acknowledged Thor’s presence to begin with, Loki could always tell when Thor was standing close by (Thor, and in fact everyone else, could never sneak up Loki. No matter how much they wanted to, as payback for the many times he managed to surprise everyone with his noiseless footsteps).

“Loki?” Thor asked hesitantly.

Loki’s head whipped around. His eyes widened as shock crossed those starved and pale features (how had Loki’s health deteriorated in such a short time? Had he been eating at all?). Loki abruptly straightened as he turned to face Thor, then seemed immediately regret the decision as swayed and gripped the table for balance. “Thor?” he asked, brow crumpling in confusion.

“Loki, what were you doing with the desk?” The placement of Loki’s body had blocked whatever Loki had been doing from his sight.

Loki glanced at the table, then back up at Thor. “Just inspecting the table for rust.”

Now it was Thor’s turn to look at the table. It seemed fine to him. “And is it?”

“What?” Loki’s gaze had wandered to the human’s cloth sack on his back, and had snapped back to Thor’s face as he asked.

“Rusting?”

Loki took a moment to stare at Thor again. “No,” he answered shortly. His eyes returned pointedly to the bag. “How was your trip? Because there must have been a trip, and you just happened to forget about your pet Jotun runt. It must have just slipped your mind, being  _very_ concerned with the duties of the palace and such, to inform me of your absence.”

“Loki, do not speak of yourself that way,” Thor scolded. “And what do you mean about my trip? Were you not told?” Heimdall had sounded very urgent, so Thor had had no time inform anyone of his upcoming absence, not even Mother, before asking to be sent to Midgard. Surely  _someone_  had thought to tell Loki.

His brother laughed. “No, Thor, no one told me.” Loki spread his arms wide, a grin spreading across his face. “No one comes down here. No one wants to.”

Thor started to feel that sickness in the pit of his stomach again. If he had known Loki had been left alone, with no idea to where Thor had disappeared, then he would not have lingered on Midgard. “Loki, I…I’m sorry. I did not realize-”

“Oh no, don’t trouble yourself about it.” Loki interrupted, a grin still stretched across his face. He walked towards his usual spot on the floor and sat down, although this time he remained looking at Thor, instead of the wall. “So tell me Thor,” he continued, “where did you go on this trip? Was it to Alfheim? The elves tend to get restless every few years. Or was it to Svartalfaheim, for some new weaponry-”

“I went to Midgard.”

Loki’s expression froze. “You went where?”

Thor slung his bag of gifts off his back, and sat down in front of the cell. “I went to Midgard. To aid the Avengers against a new foe.”

“Why?” Loki’s grin had disappeared, to be replaced with a perplexed expression.

“Because they are my friends, and Midgard is under my protection, so I mean to protect it.”

Loki did not respond, his face now contemplative, Thor reached into the sack and brought out an armful of-

“Books? Where did those from?” Loki craned his neck to get a better look at the novels, but refused to move any closer to the bars of his cell.

“They came from Midgard,” Thor responded, grabbing another stack. “The Avengers recommended them to me.”

Loki snorted. “Surely you didn’t tell them the purpose for which they are intended. I doubt the humans would suggest good reading material for my benefit.”

“No,” Thor shook his head, arranging his pile of books, “I told them I wished to learn more about their world through their literature. And their writers.” Thor smiled. “Which is not entirely a lie, as I do intend to study these books.”

Loki stared at him, a strange look on his face. “No, I guess it’s not a lie. It seems you’re learning.”

Thor’s grin widened. “I learn from the best.” They stared each other, and Thor could see a smile staring to form on Loki’s lips.

But then Loki glanced towards the stacks of books before the smile could grow too large. “What exactly have you brought back from your little adventure?”

Thor looked down at his assorted novels. He picked up one of two the books which had intrigued him the most. “This one is called Män som hatar kvinnor, and it is apparently very popular in Midgard. The Lady Natasha recommended it. She told me that it would be very informative to a,” Thor frowned as he tried to remember the Lady’s exact words. “A ‘hyper-masculine, patriarchy-driven warrior culture ‘. It’s part of a trilogy.” Thor gestured to the other two books in that pile, Flickan som lekte med elden, and Luftslottet som sprängdes. Loki peered at them suspiciously, which wasn’t necessarily uncalled for. By Thor’s estimations, Lady Natasha was probably as underhand and subtle as Loki.

To distract from Loki from his misgivings, Thor held up the other book whose description had seemed quite interesting. It was much shorter than the previous one. “And Stark informed me of this book. It’s part of a series of seven, originally meant for children, but later written for adults. He told me the main characters are magicians, so I thought you would enjoy it.”

Loki seemed skeptical of that novel as well. Sighing, Thor put them both down. “What do you want me to read first.”

Loki started, and raised an eyebrow in Thor’s direction. Leaning forward and running his gaze over the assorted books, their bright and varied covers adding colour to the dark prison, Loki opened his mouth hesitantly. “You choose,” he said, drawing back. “I don’t much see why I should care about your precious  _Avengers_ ’ recommendations.” And with his chin raised high, Loki folded his arms and waited for Thor decision.

Giving his brother a wry look (Loki was too prideful to admit he wanted to read something written by mortals, despite the books already shelved away in his room), Thor grabbed Män som hatar kvinnor and began to read.

He could go to the feast later.

~~~~~~~~

Loki lay back in bed, staring at the desk and chair. He hadn’t had a chance to test if he could break his arm using that new technique.

_But Thor had returned, bringing more stories. Loki wasn’t alone. Someone cared. Thor would keep coming, each day. And the madness had lessened, though it was always there, on the edge or delving further, deeper in his mind._

Loki sighed, and turned over to face the wall.

It probably would not have worked anyway.


End file.
